Blood of Valyria
by WinterLadyLyanna
Summary: Following the Assault on Dragonstone at the end of Robert's Rebellion, Daenerys and Viserys Targaryen struggle in the life of being exiles. From home to home, city to city with promises they can't keep and never knowing friend from foe all the two have is each other. Viserys struggles with resisting the madness his father has and keeping his mother's promise of protecting Daenerys.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue: Rhaella

Rhaella Targaryen had always been a frail woman. She'd been born of three centuries of incest to keep their bloodline pure and the side effects were obvious. Her hair and eyes may have kept the look of Valyria still, but her mind was like a thin glass wall and her husband Aerys was a rock. She never loved him and he the same for her. She was gentle and loving, while he was mad and angered. Of all things Rhaella wished she didn't have to marry the man. Even before the days he'd gone mad he'd shown symptoms and they were what Rhaella loathed about hin. She'd known she'd be betrothed to Aerys since she was a flowered woman and all because of the bloody woods witch.

"Father I do not love Aerys," Rhaella had told her father in tears. She'd all but thrown herself at his feet. "My heart belongs to another. Aerys, Aerys and I loathe each other. Do you desire for me to have an unhappy marriage? Your only daughter and your last son?"

Jahaerys only looked at her sadly and shook his head. "You must do your duty, daughter. From your line, Rhaell-"

"I don't give a damn about the prophecy!" She'd gave her father the most horrible, vengeful face she could but his face stayed stone. "You married dear Mother for love and now I'll rot here married to a man who rather cut off his cock than lay with me!" Rhaella then stormed out of the room and she cried into her pillow for hours until her eyes were red and her face tear-stained.

The day was so clear to her no matter how hard she tried to forget about it. She'd begged and begged up until the days of her wedding when her father gave her away to the brother she detested with only a small kiss on her forehead. When the time for the kiss came, Rhaella never felt as disgusted; his lips felt wormy and dry with absolutely none of the love she'd heard of in songs. Aerys had spent the entire wedding dancing with everyone but her, not that she minded. Lords and ladies had given her congratulations and the faux smile had worn off her as the party continued. She'd stared at couples who danced lovingly with each other. She envied a pregnant lady whose husband was stroking the bump and making her smile. Why was everyone happy at her own wedding yet the bride and groom weren't?

She'd feared bedding him above all things.

"Brother, may—may you please be gentle? I'm a virgin and Mother said it will hurt at first, but if done gentler, it would be pleasurable for us both," Rhaella had whispered shyly. They may not love each other but at least they'd have to bare it and have heirs.

He only looked coldly at her. "I wouldn't be marrying you if you weren't a virgin, sister. I'll do whatever gives me release and a son." Aerys then took a knife and ripped through her corset and wedding dress and looked at her in disdain. It'd taken everything in her not to cover her small breasts when he looked down bluntly at her. "Your teats make you look like a nine year old and next time I want your cunt bare. The hair is unflattering. Nothing will ever make you truly beautiful. I'll have to have a whore brought to court, seeing you won't be much, sister."

Rhaella could feel the tears in her eyes but they didn't have time to fall when Aerys roughly pushed her on the bed and thrusted into her and she let out a cry of pain. "Brother, please, you're hurting me." He ignored her cries and kept thrusting into her until she was full on sobbing.

"Why are you crying? Stop it it makes you look worse, woman." He'd pumped his seed into her more times than she could count until she was sticky all over and trying to muffle her weeps from her husband. _"No, please, gods if you have ever listened or cared of me, please do not give me another Aerys,"_ Rhaella prayed. _"I'll throw myself off the highest tower in the Red Keep. I can't, I can't. Please, Mother Above…"_

Quickly enough the seed quickened in her womb and a maester informed her she was pregnant. Most women would smile and laugh with happiness; Rhaella turned pale and prayed in the sept for hours. Targaryens were prone to madness. Would her son be a Maegor the Cruel or a Jahaerys the Wise? Would her son detest her and love spending time with his father? Would he be a sickly stillborn baby as woman had been plagued with before? Would she die in labor and her son would be raised by Aerys into his copy? Or…. gods forbid she has a daughter who is forced to marry her brother. _"No, if it is a girl, I-I will make sure she is betrothed to a kind lord's son who will love her,"_ Rhaella had thought. _"Perhaps a Velaryon or a Celtigar to keep the blood of Valyria. Anyone would be better than an Aerys."_

During the Tragedy at Summerhall Rhaella was heavily pregnant and her baby bump now bulging. The baby kicked her gently and mainly seemed quiet through the night and when she took walks through the garden he kicked the most excitedly. _"He can't be another Aerys,"_ Rhaella convinced herself. _"He is too happy to be him and my sweet son will be raised with his mother. He will be a loving son and a kind king. He must."_ Rhaella had been in the middle of eating dinner when she let out a scream and announced her son was coming. Aerys sent for a maester and demanded they "take her to the other side of the castle to muffle her damn noise." The fire had raged while she gave birth and a soldier had carried her out and she birthed her handsome son under a tree as the fire consumed King Aegon V, Prince Duncan, and Ser Duncan of the Kingsguard. Once when Rhaella was below her mother's waist she'd ask him how he was so tall and asked for a ride on his back.

When Rhaegar had been born, Rhaella had just known he wouldn't be Aerys. His deep violet eyes weren't hard and angered like his father, but sweet soft little things staring up at her lovingly. He had little wisps of blonde hair and couldn't keep his eyes off his mother. He didn't cry and at first Rhaella had feared he was stillborn, but the maester said once every while a baby doesn't cry at birth odd as it was. He was so perfect like he was meant to be in her arms. To be raised and nurtured by her. To be her little dragon.

When Aerys had found her, he'd been surprising gentle. "Have you thought of names, wife?" Aerys asked.

"Yes, husband," She smiled down at the cooing prince. "He will be named, _Rhaegar_."

"Rhaegar," Aerys said and picked up the boy. "Rhaegar Targaryen, First of His Name, and the Prince of Dragonstone." They both stared down at the baby a few more moments before Aerys piped up again. "Rhaella?"

"Yes, brother?"

"Now that Rhaegar is born remove all your things from my bedchamber. I now have an heir and there is no need of you. You will sleep in a chamber down the hallway and Rhaegar's next to yours. In two years or so, I will bed you again to give Rhaegar a sister. Understood?"

Rhaella nodded but still smiled. She had her Rhaegar and that was all she needed. "Yes, my husband."

"Good, sister," Aerys said. "Now have your handmaids pack your things; we shall be leaving when the morning comes." With that he turned and left Rhaella holding Rhaegar, caressing his soft red cheeks. _"I gave birth to this,"_ Rhaella almost laughed with joy. _"He is from my womb and my son. Rhaegar, Rhaegar, he will be the best king that ever ruled. Sweet son, my sweet sweet Rhaegar. No one will ever take you from me. I swear it by the Seven."_

Seven years had passed since the tragedy. Rhaegar had been growing exceedingly. His violet eyes grew brighter with every book he read and his laughs and smiles increased the more time he spent playing his harp. Rhaella was vocally proud of her son and relieved to see he had none of his father's cruelness. Aerys had always scowled seeing their son run happily to the his chamber to have music lessons with Septa Rosby, telling Rhaella he was turning "his son into a little girl." Rhaella, usually quiet and mindful of her duty when it came to Aerys nowadays, had argued back fiercely that he trained with the Kingsguard everyday and was already loved by the people along with intelligent. Aerys had allowed him to continue with a scowl but said if his slacked with Ser Barristan he'd burn his harp and the whole library. Aerys, he had a love of wildfire, something that worried Rhaella, but their whole family had had dragon dreams, hadn't they?

"Mother!" Rhaegar threw his arms around Rhaella's waist. He was getting tall, she observed, soon he would be taller than her. In a couple years she'd have to start thinking of betrothals. Perhaps her lady-in-waiting Princess Dorea Martell's daughter. Ella, Eria, Eir… _Elia!_ Yes, Elia Martell, she should be ten now. The time she'd visited court with her brother Oberyn last year she was pretty enough. Olive, Dornish skin with chocolate orbs for eyes and dark hair down her back. She wasn't a showoff or spoiled and she remembered Elia, Oberyn, and Rhaegar had played together laughing. Little Elia had tugged on her dress and asked if Rhaegar could come to the Water Gardens one day. She'd have to see how Rhaegar felt and perhaps they could arrange a betrothal. "Mother I was in the library—"

Rhaella ruffled his hair. "Of course you were," She teased.

He rolled his eyes and smiled at her. "Mother there's a scroll about prophecies and there was talk of a Prince Who Was Promised who'll be a leader. Mother I think it has to be me! I was born in ashes and smoke at Summerhall, wasn't I, Mother?"

"Yes…." Rhaella said weery. She detested prophecies.

"Oh Mother there's so much more I must tell you later, but I have to go."

"Go where, Rhaegar?"

"I will require a sword and armor. It seems I must be a warrior," Rhaegar stood on his tippy toes and kissed her cheek. "I'll tell you more later when you put me to bed. Goodbye Mother!" Her little boy sprinted off after giving her an excited grin.

"Rhaegar!" She called. "Don't get hurt, son!" " _You're my only one,"_ Rhaella whispered. Aery was wrong about her ever giving Rhaegar a sister-wife. She'd proved to be more sickly than she'd thought. Rhaegar had been conceived so quickly, yet all the other babies had died in her womb or a few months after birth. She'd miscarried two children in 263 and 264. When she learnt she was pregnant, Rhaella was joyous. A daughter, she'd hoped, and had a name set out for the baby — Viseyna. Then in 264 she'd hoped once more for a princess and she'd wanted to name her Alysanne. Both of them had passed in the womb and Rhaella remembered how she sobbed when her white nightgown had been stained blood red and she knew she'd lost her babe. Finally when Rhaegar was six she'd gotten pregnant and felt healthy instead of weakly. The pregnancy had gone smoothly at first then the birth, the birth felt as if she was giving birth to a calf instead of a babe. She felt like she was being ripped alive and she screamed. Then the baby slid out and she'd smiled. The midwife patted her arm and said she did well.

The midwife went over to bring the baby to Rhaella when she saw the smile drop off her face. The happy voices had left and the room turned somber. _"Where's my baby?"_ Rhaella had demanded. _"Pycelle give me my baby now."_ Pycelle looked at her sadly and placed a soft sheet in her arms. Rhaella had wanted to smile feeling the babe in her arms, but she knew something was terribly wrong. The baby wasn't moving and she felt cold when Rhaella touched her cheek. She pulled back the sheet to reveal a set of silver blonde curls on a pale face with an unbeating heart. _"No. No, no, no, NO!"_ Rhaella screamed. _"Her name was Shaena. Shaena, Shaena, Shaena, the Targaryen Princess…"_

It'd taken her months but she'd finally had peace. She had Rhaegar at least, and perhaps one day she'd be able to give him a sister to marry. If not, there's always Elia…

 _Dragonstone —- 284 AD_

Rhaella thought of her short life with the sadness and the bright light of happiness her children had given her. In 276, her robust healthy little Viserys was born. At first, Aerys had hardly even let her see him in fear of him dying, but now on Dragonstone the two spent all day together. He was an energetic child — even more than Rhaegar. He loved playing with the younger children of the castle but mainly preferred being in his mother's arms.

Her Rhaegar, her sweet firstborn, oh her dragon was dead. She'd felt like the thin wall in her mind was being beaten by thousands of rocks and swords and she'd lost her happiness. She could spend a whole day with Viserys yet she always remembered her little boy would never get to know his brother. Before they'd left for Dragonstone, Viserys had loved following his big brother around and Rhaegar promised when the war was over he'd teach him how to be a real knight like Viserys dreamed of. _"Rhaegar, my sweet prince,"_ Rhaella had cried. _"Was the Stark girl really worth it?"_

When Rhaella heard her son had kidnapped Lyanna Stark, she didn't understand what to think. She knew he wasn't Aerys, but he'd kidnapped a girl from her home and taken her off to who knows where without an explanation. But then, when Rhaegar went to war for her, Rhaella figured Rhaegar must love her. Rhaenys and Aegon, she bloody wanted to set her husband on fire like he did to Rickard, for how he kept them there. He believed everyone to be a traitor, the mad man. Now, the little grandchildren who'd she loved so dearly were dead.

Little Rhaenys who used to climb on her lap and show her her black cat Balerion, ripped from under her beloved father's bed and stabbed half a hundred times. Little Aegon who was only a babe and the Mountain — Rhaella swore if she lived she would spend the rest of her life hunting down the monster — had smashed his head into the wall and raped the screaming Elia. Poor Elia though — she loved Rhaegar, Rhaella knew, and Rhaegar loved her, yet he was not _in_ love with her. Not like he loved Lyanna, she believed.

"My queen, there is so much blood," Her midwife whispered. "So much." Rhaella knew that not to be a lie and her white sheets looked as if they were fully red. She'd never lost so much bed. She was dying and she knew it. Aerys had sent his pregnant wife and son to Dragonstone. Rhaella, she hoped desperately she would live to protect young Viserys and her sweet baby — Rhaegelle for a girl hopefully — yet now she saw that would never be. The baby was killing her; a slow, agonizing birth and the baby in an awkward angle to push out.

"Your Grace you are almost there," Maester Cressen urged. "I see the head. The baby has silver white curls of Valyria." _"Yes, my dragon would. The dragon will have three heads."_

With a sharp scream as the lightning cracked outside, Rhaella pushed the baby out along with seemingly gallons of blood. A sharp scream echoed in the room. Maester Cressen smiled broadly and wiped the wriggling baby's body to rid the blood. He wrapped her up in a red and black blanket (Rhaella had worked hard sewing that) and placed the baby in her arms. Rhaella gave a weak smile and she could feel her faint heartbeat. She struggled to keep her eyes from closing. _"You must say goodbye to Viserys, Rhaella. Just a few more moments, heart."_

"Cr-Cr-Cressen," She croaked. "S-send my s-s-son." The maester opened the doors and before he could say anything, little Viserys walked in gingerly, his face red and tear stained, holding Ser Willem Darry's hand. Rhaella trusted Ser Willem with her life and remembered the kindly old man when she was younger who sometimes let her play around with a sword.

"Hello Mama," He sniffed and came to her side and looked down at the baby. "Mama that's the baby? What's their name?"

Rhaegelle didn't seem right for her. She was special, her name had to something that fit her little girl perfectly. "Da…Da…Daen—n—-nerys," Rhaella whispered. _"Beautiful,"_ Rhaella thought and smiled. The baby looked up at her with curious bright purple eyes and her mouth in an 'o'. "V—Vi—Viserys?"

"Yes, Mommy?" The little boys face was red from crying and tear stained. In his arm he was clutching a small doll she'd sewn for him to look like the older brother he admired so much. He took it everywhere with him. Both of them would have something to remember her — Viserys his doll and Daenerys her blanket which she purposely sewn thick and extremely large so it would fit her even when she was a woman blossomed. The Usurper's ships were on their way to attack Dragonstone and slaughter all three of them

"Yo—you m-must c-care for Da-ny," Rhaella coughed. "Y-you both are blood…of the…dra-dragon. I love you b-both." Her pale hand shook as she reached to stroke Viserys' cheek. "My son." Then her arm dropped and her ears fluttered. "Ser Willem?" Her voice was hardly above a whisper. Ser Willem had to strain his ears to hear. "Remember…remember your promise." The Usurper's ships were on their way to attack Dragonstone and slaughter all three of them like Elia Martell. The garrison would all trade them over for a pardon. Everyone but Ser Willem. Rhaella would never allow her Dany and her Viserys to die.

The old knight looked broken seeing the woman he'd seen grown up dying. She deserved more happiness in her life. "I will, my queen."

"Good," Rhaella smiled and took her last few breaths. "I love you, Viserys, Daenerys." _"In the morrow, they'll be in a ship to Braavos…He will keep my babies safe from the Usurper."_ Her eyes shut and her frail heart finally stopped and Rhaella Targaryen, Queen of Westeros, First of Her Name, Mother of Rhaegar, Viserys, and Daenerys died with a smile on her face. She would finally be with Rhaegar again…


	2. Chapter Two: Ser Darry I

Chapter One: Ser Darry I

The Targaryen fleet was in shambles. The three headed dragon was shredded and torn, surrounded by the wooden planks of what was their ships. The ocean was still now, but all the remains of the strongest Westorosi navy were gone. "Bloody hell," Ser Darry swore. He looked down at the sleeping Targaryen in his arm. Daenerys, that was what Rhaella named her, named after some Dornish princess he believed. _"You really are Stormborn, little one."_

The maester had told him the storm hadn't reached the other side of Dragonstone, something which'd caused relief in the knight. A Bravossi ship'd been docked at Dragonstone for supplies, one he hoped to get the little dragons and him on. Though, the more untrusting side of him wondered if it was all a trap and the maester was lying and when Ser Darry arrived he'd only find the blades of Baratheon men. To be fair the maesters served no men, but to Ser Darry they were all turncoats.

"Ser Darry?" Little Viserys piped up. He was eight years old with long silver white hair and big purple eyes. His face was tear stained and he looked skinny as a stick. _"He was always clutching Rhaella,"_ Ser Darry remembered. _"His Mother's boy."_ "Where-where are we going?"

"A ship, my prince," Ser Darry said. "You must be quiet, the Usurper's fleet will be here any moment."

Viserys face went even paler. "They'll-they'll take us? But, I'm their Prince!" Then he scowled and glared down at the sleeping baby. "They can take Dany. I don't want her. She took Mommy."

"Viserys, Daenerys didn't take your mother, the Usurper did," Darry said gently. "Perhaps if we'd been in Kings Landing the Grand Maester could've helped her, but I know not. She was frail and many die in childbirth, prince, if Dany hadn't been born than a stillborn could've been. Would you rather have an alive sister to play with or a dead mother and sister?"

"An alive sister, I suppose," Viserys said after a minute. "But I still miss Mama."

"We all miss your mother," Ser Darry replied. "She was a good queen and a good mother." They both didn't talk for a while after that. They had to step over thick branches, walk around villages, try to make the littlest noise possible, and Ser Darry could see young Viserys wasn't used to walking this much. Dany on the other hand slept quietly, making small cooing noises ever so often. _"She looks like Rhaella reincarnated,"_ Darry noted.

"When will we get to the ship?" Viserys complained. "I'm tired and I can't see well and I miss Mommy." He looked like he was about to burst into tears.

"I can't bring your mother back, Viserys —I'm not a god. But, perhaps this will make you feel better." He gently put Daenerys into his arms. "You're little sister. You must protect her, Viserys, she and you are the last dragons."

He kissed her forehead. "Yes...You're right. One day Dany and I will come back and take the crown." He paused. "Ser Darry? Will I marry Dany?"

Well that certainly was surprising. What do you tell an exiled prince whose father lit people on fire for fun when he asked if he'll marry his sister-cousin? "Perhaps, my prince. I'm not sure. For now both of you are young. Ask me again around your sixteenth nameday. But," He said after a pause. "I don't think you'll be marrying Dany, prince, marrying siblings typically doesn't end well. Your father, he, well, marrying sisters and brothers made him not the best king."

"Oh," Viserys said. "Mother didn't let me play with Father much. He wasn't too fun anyway — he liked fire and dragons a lot. One time Father told me all about Balerion, Vhagar, and Meraxes. I wish I had my very own dragon and then when Dany was big enough we could ride it together and we'd get to go back home. To the Red Keep, not cloudy Dragonstone."

"One day perhaps you'll go home," Ser Darry didn't want to add if he did go back home Robert would hang him in an instant and Daenerys head smashed like Aegon. "For now, home will be Braavos. My niece Maryssa has a little house with a red door. She promised to protect you two as much as she could."

"She won't be our new mother right, ser?" Viserys asked with a worried look. "I don't want to call anyone else Mother. Mother should be with us."

"No, my prince. Maryssa will care for you like a septa does and she'll keep your secret safe. My prince, once we get to Braavos, you aren't to be a prince. You'll be Viserys — the orphan son of a slave and a Lys bedwarmer."

"But I'm the _prince!_ " He whined. "Mother isn't a whore — Mother is the rightful queen of Westeros!"

"You are the true prince, but the bad men might try and come for you and your sister. We wouldn't want that, would we?"

The silver blonde haired boy stayed silent for a few moments. "No," He said sullen. "But how can I take back my throne if I'm not the prince?"

"You'll always be prince, Viserys," Ser Darry answered. "You will grow older and become the rightful king—" _And the realm will pray you're nothing like your father._ "But for now you must promise me you will act as befitting as a beggar boy."

"A _beggar_?" He sounded appalled. _"I'M THE KING!"_

And that was the moment old Ser Darry showed Viserys how strong he was. He slapped the boy across the face and left a bright, pink mark. _"I will not have your baby sister die because of your foolishness,"_ He hissed. _"Now unless you'd like to be killed the moment we step foot in Braavos you will be a beggar._ " Viserys stared down at his feet angrily.

"Yes, Ser Darry," Viserys looked at the baby one more time. "You better be nice, Dany, I'm only doing this for you."

She cooed in response. "The princess will appreciate it when she's older, Viserys. For now, pull on your hood and hold Daenerys tightly."

Ser Darry walked across to a young man with a fine face. His hair was dark as the sky with yellow looking cat-slit eyes. _"Trusting an Asshai'i pirate to take us to Braavos…"_ Ser Darry thought with uncertainty. He certainly didn't trust him, but he was their only option to get to safety. He claimed to have the fastest ship in all of the Known World. Meanwhile Viserys stood back the outgoing boy looking quiet and shy for once.

 _"_ _Eqr jhara ulzei ll'hors,"_ He smiled showing oddly sharp teeth. He let out a high laugh. "Westerosi. You have the money promised?"

"Yes," The knight shoved a sack of two hundred dragons into the mans hands. The pirate looked at it greedily and smiled.

"Well then," He smirked. "Come aboard, Targaryens, we'll hit the Stepstones by the morrow and Braavos before the moon turns." And with that, Viserys Targaryen boarded the ship as the water rocked and the rain fell, silently saying goodbye to the place he'd once called home.


End file.
